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His need made him ache; the wanting made him disgusted with himself. He
knew who she was, what she was capable of, but the disgust seemed minor
compared to the need. God, how he wanted her. And if he had the chance, he
feared he'd take her. That scared him more than the gun in his ribs. Or the
woman with her finger on the trigger.
She took him down a series of back roads outside of Dallas. He'd seen her
checking her watch before they left the estate. She seemed anxious as if she
had someplace she had to be.
He could feel her anxiety growing as if time were running out.
"Turn here," she ordered.
He recognized the neighborhood. It was just south of where she'd met the
woman at the out-of-the-way Mexican café. Except this area was part of' a city
renewal program. The houses stood empty, windows broken out, graffiti scrawled
on the weathered siding, waiting to be torn down. Almost all of the street
lamps were out, and even what had once been a park stood empty, knee-deep in
grass.
He felt his skin crawl, recalling his original fear: a ditch and a gunshot
to the back of the head. A fitting end for someone who'd started out in a
ditch beside the road, he thought bitterly.
"Stop the bike," Amanda ordered with another jab of the gun barrel.
He stopped, his patience wearing thin. And her desperation was starting to
scare him a little.
"Get off," she ordered as she started to ease the gun from under his shirt.
"Slowly." He considered his options. He could let her kill him. He could let
her leave him out here. Or& He brought his arm down hard. She let out a cry.
The weapon clattered to the concrete. In one swift movement, he jerked her off
her feet and around onto his lap.
He'd had enough of her orders, enough of her. His body, hurt from need,
making him tense and irritable. Just being this close to her made him want to
take her and get it over with. He knew it would be only, the one time. He'd
never want her again. He just needed to get her out of his system. Damn the
consequences.
He stripped his bike helmet from her blond head and, trapping her arms,
pulled her into him hard.
His mouth dropped to hers. He would have one kiss. One taste of her.
In the distance, he thought he heard thunder but in his fevered state of
mind, it could just have easily been his own thunderous heart.
She fought for only a moment, then surrendered to his arms around her, his
mouth on hers, his kiss. Her lips parted with a low moan and she softened
against him.
Lightning lit the sky like fireworks. The answering thunder reverberated
through him, making the night seem as alive as the rarified air around them.
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And for a few moments, she was just a woman, not a mobster's daughter, but
flesh and blood and more female than any woman he'd ever known. He freed her
arms, deepening the kiss as she placed her palms on his chest.
Suddenly, she shoved him back. Before he could react, she snatched the
cycle helmet from his hand and swung. He dodged. The helmet missed his head
but glanced off his shoulder as he grabbed for her. But she'd already dropped
the helmet, slid off the bike and was running toward the park.
His pride as well as his shoulder hurting, he went after her. Lightning
splintered the sky. Thunder rumbled, closer this time.
He tackled her, throwing her down, landing with her under him in the cool,
damp grass. She let out a grunt and a curse and fought beneath him. He held
her down until she stopped resisting. He could hear her labored breathing but
she didn't fight him as he rolled her over and looked down into her face.
In the faint light from one of the few remaining streetlights, he could see
her hair fanned out over the dark-green grass, her face pale, her brown eyes
wide. He leaned over her, his hands pressing her arms above her head, his body
pinning hers to the ground.
She licked her lips and met his gaze, her eyes glittering with rage.
"What the hell is the deal with you?" he demanded, his head spinning from
the kiss, from her behavior. For just a moment during the kiss, he'd thought
she'd wanted him as much as he wanted her. Wrong. Obviously the kiss had only
been a ruse for her. His aching shoulder could testify to that. He was just
lucky it hadn't been his head.
"You have to let me go," she commanded through gritted teeth.
"So you can try to brain me again? Not likely."
"If my father finds out what you've done "
"What I've done?" he interrupted. "Something tells me kissing you would be
way down on the list long after breaking into his office. Try again."
She took a ragged breath. Tears glittered in her eyes. He could feel the
fight go out of her.
"You don't understand," she whispered.
"Boy, you can say that again. Why don't you try to explain it to me." He
had no idea what he didn't understand. Highest on his list would have been the
kiss.
Over them, lightning lit the sky, thunder boomed as he held her down,
determined to finally get some answers. One way or the other.
She looked up at him, her eyes swimming in tears. "Let me up and I'll tell
you everything."
He really doubted that but she no longer seemed armed, although everything
about Amanda he realized would always be dangerous. At least to him.
He let go of her arms. She lay still for a long moment. A voice inside his
head warned him he was being played for the fool. Again. But he started to
ease off her.
Suddenly she shot a furtive glance to her right. The canvas shoulder bag
she'd been carrying was lying within her reach. She made a grab for it.
He'd seen her put the ledger and the flashlight in the bag, but he had no
idea what else was in there. His mind screamed, She's going for a weapon.
He grabbed the strap of the bag before she could and tossed the bag just
out of her reach.
The bag hit the edge of the sidewalk. Something inside shattered. The sound
made him start as if it had been a gunshot.
She let out an oath and attacked him like a hellcat. He fought to hold her
down. What had been in the bag that would break and make her this upset?
"What was that?" he demanded as he braved releasing her with one hand to
lean out and snag the bag. He dragged it back over to them; it left a wet
trail in the grass.
She squirmed under him, cursing.
He frowned as he opened the bag to see what appeared to be a bottle of
teething medicine. A pale liquid puddled in the bottom of the bag. No weapon.
His gaze flicked to hers in surprise.
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She groaned, closed her eyes and lay still, no longer fighting. A tear
squeezed from beneath her dark lashes. For a moment, he thought it might be a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]